Learn to Howl at the Moon
by Kyra Dragonis
Summary: During the final battle, Greyback finds Draco; alone and helpless, meanwhile Harry finds Greyback.
1. What Are The Takes?

Chapter One: What are the Takes?

The silence was nearly as loud as the battle had been. No one moved, no one spoke; but the tension was still as thick as ever. Rapidly, the Death Eaters were realizing that their Dark Lord had fallen and they were battling their way out of the castle this time. No longer on the defensive, the Order members and the members of Dumbledore's Army fought to reclaim their stolen land.

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with it. He wasn't trying to flee the castle, and he wasn't trying to force others out either. Taking the indent of where one of the stone soldiers once stood, Draco hid from the battle, just hoping to make it into the next day alive.

Fate was not a kind soul.

Draco heard a low growl, a growl that sent shivers up his spine. Looking up, he saw dark eyes staring back at him, and a muzzle almost touching his nose. He stood frozen, like a deer caught out in the open. He did the only thing he could think of at that moment; flee. He moved to run away from Fenrir Greyback, but Greyback was having none of that.

Draco was about half way out of the alcove when Greyback snapped his head around, catching Draco's right leg with his teeth, sinking into the muscle on the inside of his thigh. He felt a flash of burning pain before he was tossed a few feet away, his skin giving way for the werewolf's sharp teeth. His head smacked into the stone floor first, followed by the rest of his body. He lay on the cold stone, unmoving, unable to feel anything from the shock coursing through his body. He only managed to see the light disappear from above him as a black, tooth-filled head cut into his vision before he closed his eyes, and told himself he was going to die.

Draco waited.

And waited.

For what seemed like an eternity, he waited.

But his death never came.

Instead he vaguely heard a spell being cast. Somewhere, he recognized the faint voice, but he couldn't place it; not now, not when he was so close to just fading into the darkness. He heard something large hit the nearby wall, bits of wall falling upon his already near broken body, and felt the ground vibrate as something landed no more than three feet from him with a yelp. Draco could hear voices this time, talking amongst themselves. Oh how he wished they would shut up; his head pounded too hard to listen to mindless talk right now.

Harry was talking with Ron and Hermione regarding their current situation. They looked on as Greyback remained unmoving, after Harry sent a curse and fly into the wall. Harry didn't want to think about the nasty crack he had heard when the werewolf had landed. Nor did he want to think about the fact that he now stood over Draco's body. Blood was covering half his face, staining his perfect blonde hair. His shirt was ripped in small slashes, and there was blood covering his leg. Draco may not have been the nicest sort, but no one deserved to be mauled by a werewolf.

Harry sighed and turned to Ron with a sad expression. "Best go find Mrs. Malfoy, let her know about her...son." Harry motioned toward Draco's body.

"Harry, do you really think it's wise to go looking for a Death Eater?" Hermione piped in.

"She saved me, there in the woods; if she was truly a Death Eater, she would have turned me over. The least I can do to repay her," Harry said with a small tinge of guilt in his voice. He should have been there, should have stopped this from happening. He should have stopped many deaths from happening, but he couldn't be everywhere he was needed at once.

"Alright, mate, we'll meet you in the Great Hall then?" Ron asked quietly.

"Sounds good," Harry replied, hardly loud enough for Ron and Hermione to hear him. Hermione gave Harry a curious face before she turned and followed Ron down the corridor to try and find Mrs. or Mr. Malfoy.

Harry stood and observed Draco for a few minutes after he became alone; the way Draco's hair just fell in front of his face, not swept back, not groomed; completely out of place for a Malfoy to be sporting. Harry bent down and lifted one of the largest bits of rubble that had fallen on the blonde when Greyback was launched into the wall close by. Harry wanted to do this by hand, just like with Dobby, because he felt it was his fault. He had Draco's wand, and Draco had lost his mother's in the Room of Requirement. He had been defenseless in a Wizarding War.

Harry was on his fifth small chuck of rubble, he knew because he was counting, when he thought he saw a flicker on Draco's face. He set the medium chunk of rock aside and looked closer at the Slytherin's half blood-covered face. He leapt back a second later, when he realized that the small glint was Draco's silver eye, looking back at him, shining with the tears of pain that Draco had yet to shed.

"You...You're not dead?" Harry accused with a hand half covering his mouth.

Draco took a small, very pain filled gasp and whispered back, "Sorry to disappoint you, Potter."

After the initial shock had worn off, Harry threw himself back into gear, this time throwing countless rocks from Draco's body, careful of any cuts or blood that lay beneath the stones. Draco watched Harry with one half open eye. He was in too much pain to think, in too much pain to cry out when Harry accidentally bumped his leg while setting down a piece of the shattered wall. He did, however, cry out when Harry was finished with the rubble, because at that time, Harry gripped him from under his arms and slowly tried to half pick up, and half drag, Draco up against the opposite side wall. Harry had his wand out then, chanting low incantations which slowly started to heal Draco's cuts, bruises, and gashes. Harry took Draco's head softly in his arm and had Draco lean against his chest as he examined his bloody head and once again started the slow healing spells.

Draco was quick, despite everything, to hide the gash on the inside of his upper thigh. Potter had been too interested in Draco's head to notice the act. Draco watched Potter with a little more interest as the Gryffindor leaned him against the wall again and spelled away the blood on Draco's face and body. Why on Earth would Potter care about his condition? But then, he cared enough in the Room of Requirement to save him; maybe this was just about the bloody saving act that Potter convinced himself he had to do.

After being mostly healed, Draco bothered to raise his head, looking at Potter with two open eyes, silver boring into green with curiosity. Potter _smiled _at him. He actually had the nerve to smile!

"What is it, _Potter_?" Draco asked with as much sneer in his voice as he could manage in his current state.

"Just wondering, _Malfoy_," Potter said with a bit of laughter in his voice, "how many times will I have to save you today?" Harry wiped his messy, dirt filled hair out of his face.

Draco gave a half smile for half a second before looking past Potter and noticing the werewolf's unmoving body on the floor, only a few feet away, almost taunting him. He unconsciously slid back a few inches away, Potter seemed to have noticed this movement, however, since he shifted to his left to cut Draco's sight from the body.

Draco cursed himself for the movement. Malfoy's did not show fear, especially not to one's own enemy. Well, _was _Potter his enemy? Does an enemy heal the other from near death? He didn't know, and he certainly didn't want to ask Potter about it.

Draco never would have gotten a chance to ask Potter even if he wanted to, because suddenly Potter wrapped his arm around Draco, throwing Draco's arm around his neck, and heaving him to his feet. It took great effort for Draco to not scream out in pain or wince when his weight landed on his injured leg.

"And where are we going now Potter?" Draco asked through clenched teeth. Not out of hatred, but out of pain, and the struggle to conceal it, although he didn't have to tell Potter that.

"To the Great Hall," Potter answered with a shrug.

Draco couldn't respond to Potter, for his mouth was busy biting the side of his lip as each step burned his leg and his side. But he would not tell Potter. He couldn't, because saying it out loud would be admitting it to himself what his wound meant, and he wasn't really ready to deal with that at the moment.

The trip seemed to take forever, but must have only been five minutes, before they walked into the Great Hall together. Draco spotted the Mudblood and Weasel right away. They looked shocked, to say the least.

"You mean the Ferret didn't die then?" Weasley asked, almost sounding disappointed to the Slytherin's ears.

"Ron, please try to be civil," Hermione scolded Ron before anyone else had the chance. "Harry, we couldn't find Mr. or Mrs. Malfoy. No one has seen them for at least the past two hours, with no idea where they would have taken off to." Hermione looked to Draco then.

"How the bloody hell would I know where they went?" Draco murmured, more to himself. His mother may love him, but she also loved Lucius, and did whatever he told her. Draco didn't like his father, not that Lucius was ever really a father to him anyway.

Suddenly, a voice rang out in the Great Hall, one Draco never bothered with, but seemed to stand the hairs up on Harry's neck.

"What is _he_ doing here? Malfoy is a Death Eater! Get him out before he tries to kill some of the _honored _injured," the blonde boy called from where the Hufflepuff table should have been.

There were a few murmurs going about with his comment, and more and more of them turned into agreements of one kind or another.

Weasley turned to Potter then, a hidden smirk on his filthy face. "Maybe he's right Harry, maybe the ferret shouldn't be here, when his parents could have been the ones to kill some of the people here."

Hermione gasped at Ron, and Harry's eyebrows shot up in shock.

"What?" Ron asked defensively. "I'm telling the truth."

Harry suddenly felt very disappointed in Ron. Ron knew that Narcissa lied for him; could have killed him right there in that forest, and the only reason that Harry was still alive was because Draco's mother wanted into the castle; not to fight, only to find her son. But before Harry could voice his disappointment, Draco dislodged from Harry and, standing very proud with head held high, limped his way out of the Great Hall and out of sight.

"Heh, good riddance I say," Ron mumbled under his breath.

Harry, however, was now very concerned. Draco had limped severely, and there was even a small hint of a bloody stain trailing after him. Harry should have healed all of Draco's wounds before he was brought to the Great Hall.

Harry took off toward the exit, and only stopped once before turning back to the exit and following the faint trail of blood.

It did not take Harry long before he realized where Draco was headed. Before long, Harry stood in front of a large set of double doors, one of the sides already cracked open and a small bit of light shining through. Harry opened the door slightly more to see the charred remains of the room of hidden things. All those hidden things were now hardly more than ash and bits of charred remains. Harry glanced over the entire room before finding Draco sitting on the floor, hair hanging down in front of his eyes, across the way from the remains of the Vanishing Cabinet.

Harry slowly walked up to Draco, not sure of what to say, or how to ask if he was alright. Harry knew he couldn't be alright, somehow, something was wrong. When Draco didn't look up, or talk to him, Harry sat down next to Draco, back leaning against what he assumed to be a very old record player, or what remained of it at least. The smell of smoke and ash was still very strong in the room as the boys sat in silence.

Harry suddenly smirked once again, and said, in the best challenging voice he could manage, "Don't you even think about fixing that damnable cabinet this time, _Malfoy_."

Harry was glad to see the tip of Draco's mouth twitch upward, and he raised his head, just enough to look at Harry with the Malfoy smirk in place.

"What are the takes, _Potter_?"

**Note: So this is the revised chapter one. I now have a wonder****ful beta Xezo. You should thank her for cleaning up my chapters that I write at three in the morning! :D**

**Rate, review? I know you want to!**


	2. Consider It Another Dog Put Down

Chapter 2: Consider It Another Dog Put Down

Harry stared into Draco's eyes for a second before bursting into laughter. Draco had said that same line to Harry, what seemed like ages ago now, during the Triwizard Tournament. Back then, Draco meant to be hurtful, and rouse Harry. Now, however, he meant it as a joke, actually meant to be laughed at. Harry couldn't remember any other time when Malfoy had said something for the purpose of laughter.

Harry lowered his eyes from Draco's, using his left hand to fix his glasses back upon his nose as they should be, but something caught his eye. Something red was extending slowly from Draco's right leg. Harry's laughter died in an instant, and a thick silence grew as the pool of blood did. Harry raised his head again to meet Draco's eyes, except Draco was looking down at his leg, eyes glazed over, unseeing.

"Malfoy, let me see your leg," he demanded in a low voice.

"Piss off," Malfoy said coldly.

"Draco Malfoy, give me your damn leg!" Harry tried to reach over to stop Draco from pulling his shirt a little further down to try and cover the source of the blood.

"I told you to piss off, Potter! Or does the Boy-Who-Lived not listen?" Draco snapped.

"And be charged of murder when they find your git body, no thanks." The Gryffindor did not mean it as a joke.

"Then don't consider it _murder_," Draco yelled, "just consider it another _dog_ put down!"

Harry froze, forgetting his attempts to see the reason for Draco's bleeding. He stared at Draco's hidden face, eyes wide in disbelief. Harry watched carefully as Draco sighed and pulled the ripped fabric of his pants away, revealing a set of deep jagged tooth marks; a bite from a werewolf.

Harry took a deep breath and said, almost in a whisper, "He...he bit you, Greyback that is?"

It wasn't so much of a question as a disbelieving statement. Draco had no need to try to confirm or deny as Harry pulled out his wand and once again started the healing chant to stop the bleeding and filling in the jagged lines; but the healing wasn't complete, and scars remained. Harry watched as Draco finally nodded, such a small gesture that he could have imaged it.

The two boys sat not saying a word to each other for a while after Harry healed Draco. Draco was ashamed of himself. How could he let have let this happen to him? He was a mangy animal now, no better than a rabid wolf stalking dark streets, searching for victims.

"Maybe... maybe we should head back to the Great Hall, people will start to worry about us..."

Draco made a low sound in his voice, almost like a dark snicker. "Who would miss a lowly Death Eater? My parents are nowhere to be found, Snape is dead. No one would miss me...and even still, I have been bitten, even charity cases like yourself would turn me away with my 'condition'."

"What do you plan on doing then? How will you take care of yourself?"

Draco stayed silent; he brought his one good leg up and crossed his arms around it, burying his face into his arms, so that Potter could not see the tears fall from his dull gray eyes. Draco had no clue what he was to do, but a thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Do you," Draco started, then paused to try and calm his shaky voice. "Do you know where I might be able to get some Wolfsbane potion?"

"Snape made it for Remus in third year. I can try and see if there is any down in the potion storage room," Harry offered.

Draco said nothing as Harry stood and slowly walked out of the Room of Requirement. He looked back once, seeing Draco slide his way onto his side, and continued out and in the direction of the school dungeons.

Draco heard Potter's footsteps echo away from him, and listened as the massive door slammed shut again. It took Draco two minutes before he punched the solid stone floor with his fist, hearing a soft crack; he started sobbing. He held nothing back, there was no one to see him break down, after all. No one to hear his sobs; in the course of a single night, he had managed to lose everything. Snape was no longer there to take points from the Gryffindor house; no mother to welcome him home for the holidays; even his blood was tainted, and he hated it, hated himself for it.

Harry eventually arrived at the Potions storage room, the door was slightly off its hinges, but still intact. Harry muttered a quick '_lumos_' and started with the highest shelves first, quickly searching each label for the Wolfsbane potion. Getting more frantic, Harry accidentally knocked a few vials off the shelves, but he paid them no mind. He also didn't dwell on why he was determined to find the potion, the one thing Draco had ever asked of Harry...besides his friendship in first year. Harry paused a second at that thought, before shoving it far back into his head, to evaluate later when he was not on a mission.

"Damn it," Harry swore lightly after he checked every potion only to not find what he was looking for. He started his trip out of the dungeons and back to the Room of Requirement, turning over in his head where he might find the potion.

Harry arrived at the Room of Requirement a few minutes later, sighing as he slowly opened the door. Harry walked into the room and saw Draco where he was last, lying on his side. Harry saw Draco notice the sound of the door opening and he turned his head toward it. Harry saw the glint of tears in his eyes, so dull, so sad...slowly becoming engulfed in pure darkness. Harry's own eyes widened at the sudden threat and he slipped back out of the Room. Slamming the door shut behind him, he placed a locking charm upon the door, trapping Draco inside.

**Note: So this is the revised chapter two. I now have a wonderful beta Xezo. You should thank her for cleaning up my chapters that I write at three in th****e morning! :D**

**Rate, review? I know you want to!**


	3. Once Removed Once Bitten

Chapter Three: Once Removed Once Bitten

Harry's eyes widened at the sudden darkening of Draco's, signaling the change to come. He slipped back out of the room, slamming the large door behind him, quickly casting a locking charm as he did so.

Harry pressed his back against the wooden door before slowly sliding down to sit on the floor. His eyes were wide and pulse still beating rapidly. The Gryffindor was able to hear the cries of agony befalling Draco, and it was sickening. The torment the Slytherin felt made Harry wish there was something he could do, but there wasn't anything anyone could do.

Slowly the heart-wrenching screams died down to harsh whimpers, and then to slow panting. Harry was able to hear the scraping of claws on the stone floor, slowly at first, but soon the scraping was a constant. Harry was able to feel small vibrations through the ground from Draco thrashing around the large room.

Harry put up a silencing and a disillusionment charm upon the door after a few minutes of listening to the sounds of the werewolf running about. He tugged on the small string around his neck to pull out his Mokeskin pouch that was tucked under his jumper, and pulled out the cloak of invisibility to drape it around himself. The last thing he wanted was to have someone come around and have to answer a ton of questions which he didn't want to.

Draco felt his bones breaking and shifting under his skin, fur forcing its way out of him. At that moment he wished death would come; that would have to be less painful then being forced into a new body, slowing losing his mind to the animal he was becoming.

Coherent thoughts were growing further and further apart until he was no longer Draco Malfoy.

As he ceased to be, the animal lifted its snowy white body off of the floor, attempting to shift itself onto all four of its long limbs; shifting awkwardly on the muscles its body was in no way used to. The claws which came out of the front paws scrapped like metal on the floor. The werewolf's pointed ears perked at the sound of the claws, shifting his large head so the icy blue eyes could see the source of the noise.

His upper lip rose, exposing his canine teeth and black gums, snarling at nothing in particular. A deep growl escaped his throat as his neck fur bristled. Arctic eyes scanned the destroyed room before the animal started walking forward, stumbling over his longer legs every few steps as he went like a toddler learning to walk on its own.

Harry suddenly heard faint voices approaching down the corridor. He turned his head, trying to see who would be there, still a little on edge from the battle and the werewolf he was hiding from the rest of the castle.

He saw a flash of red hair before he could fully make out Ginny Weasley. Harry relaxed a bit at seeing the girl, until he saw Dean Thomas run up from behind her and walk alongside her. Harry knew that Dean had dated Ginny a few years back, so he kept an eye on the man. He was able to hear a bit of their conversation; Dean was asking what Ginny's plans were now. Odd, Harry didn't think they were still talking. He wasn't able to hear much of Ginny's reply, something about settling. Settling on what? Then Harry saw Dean wrap his hand around Ginny's before they turned down another corridor.

Harry didn't know what to think; was Ginny interested in Dean Thomas instead of him? He thought that he could just resume his relationship with Ginny now that the war was over. Did she not have the same plan in mind? Harry's mind raced upon the possibilities of what he just saw. Maybe she pushed him away after he couldn't see them anymore. Yeah, that was possible.

Harry looked down both ends of the half destroyed corridor to make sure the way was clear. He turned his torso toward the door he was leaning against and removed his charms. The metallic scraping of sharpened claws on stone returned to his ears, along with sharp barking. Harry replaced his charms once he was satisfied that Draco was doing alright locked in the room.

Harry pushed himself off the door and stood, removing his cloak from over him and rolled it neatly, tucking it back into his pouch. He turned and walked in the direction of the Great Hall, deciding that sitting and thinking upon Ginny was not a very smart idea. Walking into the Great Hall, Harry saw the larger line of dead bodies, some clad in black cloaks, others in school uniforms.

Ron and Hermione turned to Harry with worried, but happy looks.

"Oi, Mate! Where have you been?" Ron asked as Harry approached and clasped a hand on Harry's back.

"We were really worried," Hermione scowled. "We were going to head to the Burrow. When would you like to go?"

Harry looked between Hermione and Ron, and scanned the Great Hall, not concerned with those in the room; instead his thoughts were on the stubborn...wolf.

"Actually Hermione, Ron, I think I want to stay here for a while longer, take care of the people here first," Harry half-lied.

Hermione was about to protest before Ron chipped in with, "Always the hero. Come on Hermione, we should meet up with mum and dad, I am sure that Fr-" Ron paused painfully, "George and Percy would like to see us."

Hermione shot Harry a skeptical look before turning around and heading to the front gates of Hogwarts with Ron. Harry watched them leave until they breached the gates and disapparated together. He evaluated the grim scene of the hall, feeling a tinge of guilt before turning and heading back up the stairs to the Room of Requirement.

Once at the room, Harry slipped back down on the floor, back against the door, checking that Draco was still moving about before reapplying his charms. Harry put his cloak on once more and waited, checking about every half-hour for any sounds coming from the werewolf or room that held him.

Hours passed by slowly; Harry eventually lying upon the floor instead of sitting, once his arse had gone numb from the unforgiving stone.

He woke from his light sleep by the shrill ring of his spelled timer, another half-hour having passed by. Harry removed his charms with a swish of his wand and sat bolt upright when he realized that he heard nothing within the room. He stood, with some difficulty from his stiff legs and sore muscles, and turned to face the room. Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened the door, not wanting to get himself mauled by the young werewolf.

Harry peeked in and sighed with relief; Draco was curled into a tight ball, human again. When Harry approached he noticed that Draco had thrown his ripped and ruined garments over his body, not truly dressed. A blush crept across his face and he turned his back to the blonde. The Gryffindor removed his invisibility cloak, setting it on the ground beside him, and draping his black jumper over the curled body, he then sat down to wait.

As he sat, wincing from his stiff muscles, back on the floor next to Draco, he saw tears staining the Slytherin's face. Harry was torn between trying to comfort the teen and remembering that this was Malfoy after all. After everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours, Harry still had six years of torment to try and get past to see the scared boy beneath.

"Would...would you be better if you headed back to Malfoy Manor?" Harry asked quietly, not wanting to startle him.

Harry turned to the blonde when no reply came, thinking he might have fallen asleep until Draco tucked his head into his folded arms.

"Malfoy?"

Draco replied so silently that Harry couldn't understand him properly.

"What?"

"I can't..." Draco replied a tad louder, "I'm not a pure-blood anymore."

"Why would that matter?" Harry asked, both frustrated and unsure of pureblood traditions.

"Once a Malfoy loses pure-blood status, the Manor is removed from his, or her, rights..."

**Note: So this is the revised chapter three. Once again, please thank Xezo for being able to enjoy this chapter without being confused.**

**I want to apologize for the people who actually read this story for taking so long on this chapter. I am going to blame working 40+ (Approved for overtime today) and taking 5 Uni classes. :/**

**Rate, review? I know you want to!**


	4. You Think You're A Man

Chapter 4: You Think You're A Man

Harry woke with a start, quickly focusing to his surroundings of the largely burnt room; the memories of the night before flooding his mind. Putting one hand on the solid floor under him, Harry pushed himself upright, his muscles screaming in protest and his neck as stiff as a brick. He pulled his arms above his head and stretched them upward while turning his torso to Draco. Or where Draco should have been.

"Malfoy?" he called out loudly, the echo of his voice bouncing off the walls.

When no reply came, he tried again, "Malfoy!"

He was about to get to his feet and start searching, worried that something might have happened to the tall blonde while he was sleeping, when the object of his worry came around the corner of a large stack of charred remains of books.

Draco was barefoot, dressed in black slacks that hung around his waist tightly, and was shirtless. Harry could see scars running across his chest like flares cutting across a sky. He was tracing the scars with his eyes when he noticed Draco's hand clenching his wand.

"Potter, can you try and not wake the dead?" he moaned.

"Malfoy, why do you have your wand?"

"Well, I couldn't very well wear my shreds of cloth all day, and your jumper only covers so much; which I burned by the way, hideous thing." he stated with a roll of gray eyes before tossing the wand in the Gryffindor's direction.

Harry used his seeker reflects to catch the wand before it was able to hit the ground, looking at it as if it held all the mysteries of magic itself.

"Why aren't you keeping this? I mean, it is yours after all."

"And risk having the Boy-Who-Lived unarmed?" He raised his arm to his mouth dramatically, "Actually, Potter, I believe that the wand would be better off with you anyway. After all, I was a former Death Eater, I am sure the Ministry will be keeping a close eye on me, and might even take my wand from me depending on who takes over. No thanks, hero, I would rather hand my wand over willingly than have it pulled from my fingers."

"At least you could still use it," Harry offered his best.

"On the slacks, yes, but the shirt was completely ruined." The Slytherin looked back at the discarded shirt behind him.

Harry used this chance to sneak a glance at Draco's bear chest again, guilt flooding over him.

"I, I think I should go check in with Ron and Hermione. I am sure they must be worried about me..." he trailed off as Draco slowly turned his head back.

After a prolonged silence, the blonde broke eye contact. Instead he watched the floor as he shrugged at the comment. Turning around and walking back to his shirt, he picked it up and stood tall.

"Whatever, Potter, I'm sure that the Weasel was missing you the moment you chased after me," he all but sneered.

"Now that was uncalled for, Malfoy!" Harry protested, which earned him a scoff. The gray-eyed aristocrat turned to face him, walking toward him but then just passing him by, straight through the door.

He glared after the Slytherin, starring daggers into the wood of the door. Well, he seems to be back in perfect bloody shape, the git, he thought.

Harry avoided all contact with others as he snuck his way out of Hogwarts. He didn't think he could ever understand Slytherins; mixed signals everywhere! He wasn't that dense, Draco had to be hurting from the recent events, but it certainly didn't show that morning.

As soon as he crossed the gates, he apparated to the front door of Grimmauld Place. Opening the door, he suddenly realized how worn out he really was; neck still stiff and stomach completely empty.

"Kreacher!" he called into the darkness that lead to the dining area.

Kreacher appeared with a pop, ears hanging down and dirty pillowcase hanging loose from his small frame.

"Master Potter requested poor Kreacher?" the elf asked.

"Could I get something to eat in my room after I take a bath?"

"Of course, Master Harry Potter, sir," Kreature stated, but Harry hardly heard him, already half up the stairs to the first floor.

He dragged himself to the master bathroom, feet hardly lifting off the ground as he went, too tired to care about scuffing the carpet. Reaching the bathroom, he didn't bother with the buttons of his shirt, instead folding his arms around the middle, grabbing the bottom of the shirt, and pulling it right over his head.

Harry woke slowly, eyes slipping open into the darkness of his bedroom. Being the fifth time he had woken up since he tried to lay down at nine pm, he rolled over onto his right side and grabbed his wand off the night stand. Casting a quick tempus charm, he discovering it was five after two in the morning.

He groaned loudly, rolling back over to attempt sleeping again. After tossing and turning, he cast another tempus charm, seven after two. His mind traveled back to Draco Malfoy, the blonde git, leaving the room of requirement as he did, like he didn't even have a care in the world.

"Where would he have gone to after he left?" he thought aloud, "He has no where he could have gone!" Shooting up in bed at this realization, eyes wide, he quickly called for Kreacher.

"Yes, Master Harry Potter?" The elf looked half asleep and his tone indicated he was annoyed at being called at such an hour.

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. Find him, but don't bring him."

With a loud crack the elf was gone.

Harry was pacing his living room yet again, when the elf suddenly appeared by the door an hour later. Kreacher slunk his way into the living room, feeling very small under the hard stare he was receiving.

"Kreacher has found Mr. Malfoy, sir."

"Well?" Harry felt a little bad for yelling at the elf so, but Hermione wasn't there to scowl at him, and he was jittery.

"Mr. Malfoy is at a filthy muggle dance place, called Babylon, sir." The elf slunk down half behind the couch, expecting some kind of punishment for the news he was delivering.

"A...a _muggle _club?" Harry questioned, not sure he heard the small creature right.

"Yes, yes sir," Kreacher confirmed.

The wizard turned around, away from the elf, eyes darting back and forth but not really looking at the room. His mind was racing with why's and how's of where Draco was located, the worry building with every second.

"Kreacher, take me to him."

Harry had to force himself past the mass of bodies, sweaty and moving all over the dance floor and each other. He was dressed in tight blue jeans and a red, silk button down shirt so he could blend in with the current crowd. It wasn't hard to locate a flash of platinum blonde hair in the masses; it was always how he knew where the Slytherin was in school after all.

He moved with grace, like he always had, Harry noted. Draco was still shirtless, he noted as he managed to get closer the wizard, by climbing the sharp stairs to the overhead balcony. He was only five feet away when suddenly the fog machines went to full-blast. Harry lost the blonde to the fog spreading the flashing colourful lights all over the room and casting a haze over everything and everyone.

He moved his head left and right, trying to catch another glimpse of his target when he felt a back roll against his own, but vanish by the time Harry could try and turn around to see who was there.

The beat of the song picked up considerably as Harry could feel the person moving from his back, to his left side, breathing into his ear, whispering words to him, just for him to hear.

"You think you're a man, but you're only a boy. You think you're a man but you're only a toy."

Harry tried to snap around fast enough to catch Draco, but once again he was gone as fast as he had shown up.

"No don't come back, 'cause no one makes a fool of me. You've got a nerve to walk away, mock the words I'm gonna say, Mister you just made a big mistake," came the whispered voice of Draco from his left. When he turned to the left, Draco was still there, eyes almost glowing with the flashing of the lights, grinning wider than a cat. Harry stood as if he was put under a stunning spell as the grinning man stepped closer and slowly ground his way against him, moving to the fast beat of the song.

Draco wrapped his arms around the black haired man's shoulders, singing quietly with the song while swaying to the beat; gray eyes locking onto green ones. Only then did Harry note the huge pupils, the red shining in the whites of his eyes. As Draco leaned his forehead against Harry's, he could smell the liquor on the blonde's breath.

Furious, Harry unsheathed his wand between them, casting a silent disillusionment charm, and apparated them both straight into his living room.

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><p><strong>Love my beta!<strong>


	5. E Place To Stay

Chapter 5: A, B, C, D, E, E, E Place to Stay

The quiet living room was disturbed by the crack of apparation, two figures suddenly standing next to the fire place. Harry dislodged his companion's arms from around his neck, pushing them down to Draco's sides, who still had a large grin on his face and eyes holding almost no iris.

Storming out of the room, the shorter man went into the kitchen. He leaned forward against the kitchen sink, using his arms to prop himself up, letting his head hang low and sighing. He couldn't fire-call Hermione, she would ask too many questions, and Ron was completely out of the question, he would rather hex Malfoy than help.

Harry's head shot up straight when he heard a very distinct _**thud **_that came from the living room. He turned and rushed from the kitchen, eyes scanning every inch of space for the source of the noise. Not having to look long, he saw Draco's body lying on the floor, eyes wide open, only blinking a lot slower than he should. He rushed forward, kneeling as he did so, looking down at the man on the floor.

"Kreacher!"

Kreacher walked in from the hallway, eyes squinted and obviously upset, "Sir?"

"Get me a few blankets and some water," he ordered the house elf.

While Kreacher went off to fetch as he was told, Harry careful scooped the blonde up in his arms, with an arm behind his head and an arm supporting under his knees. He placed the out-of-it man carefully upon the couch, still holding the back of his head.

"Malfoy, Malfoy, look at me. What did you take?" Draco turned his head to look at Harry, the only reply coming from him being a sharp laugh. "Malfoy, what are you on?" The concerned man tried again.

"A~ B~ C~ D~ E~" the Slytherin all but sang while laughing.

"E? You mean the muggle drug, ecstasy?"

The blonde moved his head closer to Harry, eyes half closed and voice remarkably softer, "You could use some ecstasy..."

With a start, Harry placed the head in his hand down on the sofa and back away, letting Kreacher drape the blanket over the man laughing on the couch. Casting a quick tempus charm, he felt even more exhausted seeing that it was four in the morning.

He fell asleep an hour later, back against the couch Draco slept on, head resting back. He didn't notice the hand tangled in his hair.

Draco woke slowly, trying not to move his head to try and stop the pulsing his brain must be doing in his skull. He could smell the delicious aroma of waffles, being made somewhere past his closed eyes. He tried to open his eyes, very slowly, to face the half lit room. The room he was in was dark, noting all the curtains had been drawn shut tightly against the harsh sunlight beyond them. Light was cutting a path across the living room from the doorway of the kitchen, door half closed.

Draco groaned in protest of his headache and sore body. Suddenly, Potter was next to him, plopping a plate of waffles onto the blonde's half exposed chest.

"Eat," Potter demanded.

He propped himself up on one arm and managed to scoot himself back until his back could press against the arm rest. Watching Harry's angry green eyes, he slowly picked up the fork on the plate and cut into the waffles. He half expected them to be poisoned with the way that Potter watched him.

Draco had hardly eaten a full waffle, feeling very uneasy with the constant glare, when suddenly Potter broke eye contact, turned around and threw his arms into the air.

"Do you even realize how stupid you are, Malfoy?" Harry yelled, "You surrounded yourself with people you have never met, they could have been Death Eaters for all you knew! Even if they weren't, they were Muggles! What if you had used magic around them accidentally? Had you even thought of the consequences? And to make it worse," he continued, back still to the object of his frustration, "you were completely drunk! And doing muggle drugs!" Draco watched Harry turn around, looking at him like he was a first year. "Do you even care?" Potter asked him.

Draco couldn't hold eye contact, instead finding the carpet the most fascinating thing at the moment. "Why should I care Potter?" the Slytherin all but whispered, "Everyone who would have cared is gone, so it doesn't matter."

"I care!"

Draco's head snapped up to look at Potter. "What?"

"This is what you are going to do," Potter started, "You are going to finish your bloody waffles, take a shower, you smell horrible you know. I will have clothes laid out for you, then you get your arse into bed you fucking git."

"Potter, what's going on?" Draco asked lightly.

"I have a wand-less, parent-less, and homeless Slytherin that is going to be moving into the spare room upstairs, and I can't have him starving and filthy when he does so."

"Potter, no, I..."

He was cut short in his protest when Harry informed him, in a deadly serious voice, "Malfoy, you don't have a choice."

Draco pulled the shower handle down, turning off the near burning water. He opened the glass sliding door and grabbed the towel, which had been sitting on the sink. He couldn't stop thinking about how stupid he had been; not in his party activities the night before, but in letting self-righteous Potter find him in such a state. His thoughts were cut off by the rising voices he could hear from down the stairs. Draco opened the bathroom door, the steam escaping into the hallway with him, and snuck his way down the hall, mindful of every step so it wouldn't make a noise. The voices rose higher with every second, yelling at each other.

"You can't just let that Ferret live here!" Draco heard the Weasel yell from downstairs.

"He has no place else left to go!" So, Weasel and Potter were having a row.

"Then leave his arse on the street! You don't owe him a thing Harry! Not in the room of requirement and certainly not now!"

"I can't just leave him on the street Ron! He could be killed by Death Eaters or self-righteous wizards of the Light!" Harry protested.

"_GOOD!_" Draco heard Weasely yell, shortly before he heard something hard smack against the floor.

"Get out of my house," Harry all but seethed.

Draco heard the front door open, squeaking in protest on how it was being treated, before the door being slammed shut, and Harry screaming out in frustration.

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><p><strong>Thank you for all my wonderful readers and those who review! A huge thank you to my beta!<strong>


	6. Accidental Cut

Chapter 6: Accidental Cut

Draco slunk down each step on the stairs, willing them to not creak on his way down. He wasn't sure what kind of mood Harry was in after his fight with Weasley and was not in the mood to be hexed. Draco's hair was still dripping wet, sticking up at odd angles, looking more like a certain someone's than his own. His green button-up shirt clung to his still damp chest.

He found Harry sitting on the couch in the living room. His arms were crossed, legs brought up against himself. He saw Harry's eyes travel up to his own with a muttered 'hey', or so it sounded like. Draco sat down on the couch, a seat still between them just for good measure. One never could be too careful.

The two boys sat, not saying a word to each other. The blonde was startled when, after twenty minutes of silence, the Gryffindor brought his arms down and said, "I like your hair better that way. Seems more relaxed."

Draco smirked, "You would."

"I punched Ron."

He didn't know what to say to that. He knew something must have happened, but the fact that he punched the Weasel never really occurred to the Slytherin.

"Was it because of me?" Draco knew the answer, so he wasn't really sure why he had to ask.

"Yes."

"You didn't have to stick up for me, Potter."

Harry's piercing green eyes met Draco's. "I know I didn't have to."

The blonde broke eye contact by standing up. He sighed and turned away from where Harry sat, to face the stairs.

"Do you want me to do anything about it?" he asked.

"Not a thing."

Draco went back upstairs, not caring about any little noise they made. He felt useless, only causing trouble for anybody around him. His father never failed to mention it every chance he got, back when he was around. Maybe the Weasel was right, maybe his parents had found their chance and just made a break for it.

He reached the end of the hall and turned to the left. The room which he was staying in had belonged to Regulus Black, if the door tag was anything to go by. He turned his head right, and saw the slightly open door. Curiosity peeking, Draco pushed the door open all the way and was surprised to see the room a disaster. There were books tossed all over the door, papers torn and scattered. His eyes passed over a glint on the floor, before they zoomed on the glint again. The Slytherin couldn't help but bend over and pick up a piece of the broken mirror, looking at his broken reflection.

Draco returned to his room, which was decorated in green and silver, so he felt more like he did at Hogwarts than he did when he was at the Manor. He sat on the fluffy bed, still watching himself in the mirror as he went. Not thinking about what was happening, he slowly lifted his left hand to the edge of the glass and ran his index finger over the side. He watched, eyes transfixed, as a thin red crease appeared.

He growled in frustration and fisted the glass in his right hand, feeling the glass slice its way into the flesh of his palm. His gray eyes watched as blood seeped between his fingers, and pooled at the bottom of his hand. He smirked at the pain he had caused himself. He must still be part human if he still bled red.

Draco suddenly heard the quick creaking of the stairs, indicating someone was coming up. His eyes widened, suddenly realizing what he had done to himself. He threw the bright red glass on the far edge of the bed, against the wall, effectively hiding it from view. Panicking, he lifted a corner of the bed sheets and hid his hands under it. He had just managed to hide his hands when he found Harry in the doorway of his room, holding a letter.

"What poor manners you have, Potter, you don't even know how to knock?" Draco sneered, "Do muggles know nothing?"

Harry almost chuckled as he invited himself in and sat on the edge of Draco's bed without an permission.

"This came for you," Harry handed the small letter out toward him. "It's from the Ministry."

Draco pulled his good hand out from under the bed covers and looks at the letter, sealed with the Ministry seal. His gray eyes crept from the letter, up to Harry. He saw the green eyes watching him expectantly. His eyes dropped down to the letter once more.

"Well, aren't you going to open it?"

He took a deep breath before bringing his still bleeding hand above the covers to join his first. His eyes immediately flew up to Harry's shocked face.

"It was an accident!" Draco stated as fast as he could.

Harry was standing and rushing for the door as quick as a blink of an eye.

And there he goes, too repulsed to be in the same room as me, he thought to himself before breaking the Ministry seal of the letter.

He was quite shocked when a second later Harry was back next to him, taking Draco's blood soaked hand from him and turning it upwards. The blonde winced as the gash was forced to be open and exposed. He hadn't realized the damage was that bad to stretch from the top of his hand down to the bottom, straight across his palm. Harry pressed the damp rag softly against the cut, soaking in the blood.

Harry set the crimson rag down upon the bed before taking his wand out of its sheath up his sleeve and muttering a quick healing charm. He picked the rag back up and dabbed it over Draco's hand a few more times.

Draco watched the care he was receiving without so much as a blink of an eye. He was used to being treated like he was made of glass, just not by the Boy-Who-Lived. He tore his eyes away from his own hand to finally read the letter, which had been unfolded.

"Malfoy..." the raven-haired man tried to speak but was cut off.

"Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley requests that the Ministry take action against Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy for crimes committed during the Second Wizarding War, punishments of which including being sentenced in Azkaban, death, or the Dementor's kiss."

**Love my beta and all her Kiwi skills!**


	7. Prongs of Help

"Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley requests that the Ministry take action against Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy for crimes committed during the Second Wizarding War, punishments of which include being sentenced to Azkaban, death, or the Dementor's kiss."

Not a word was said while Harry thought about the letter Draco had received. He was seething, but doing so silently and going over what to do in his head. He knew that Ron didn't like Draco for past deeds, but he had no idea that Ron would go to the Ministry of Magic because of school yard fights before a war. How could Ron have forgotten that Draco had saved their skins while in Malfoy Manor? Draco could have called Voldemort on the spot, but instead refused to name Harry outright.

But then Harry thought back to fourth year, when Ron thought that he put his name in the Goblet of Fire. Ron's loyalty flipped faster than someone hit with Levicorpus. Like back in third year, when he completely hated and mocked Hermione all because he thought that her cat ate his pet rat. If Ron was willing to turn on her for that, he could now easily see how Weasley could take extreme measures against Draco; just for being there. Harry took the letter kindly from Draco's hand, glancing at the words written without actually reading them.

Draco stayed quiet, watching Harry examine the official letter with a hint of fear in his gray eyes. How was the son of a Death Eater, and in fact a Death Eater himself, supposed to fare against one of the 'Golden Trio', which had been favored for the past seven years? The most he could hope for was a run with Azkaban, where all the hope and happiness would be sucked out of him until he went insane. He shuddered at the thought.

Harry suddenly stood, his fingers finally slipping away from the blonde's and rushed to the door, swinging around the corner so fast that his side hit the adjacent wall. He took the stairs two at a time and jumped from the third stair down onto the base floor, using the stair railing as a lever as he swung his body around into the living room. His eyes just caught Draco's before the green flames of the fireplace took him as he shouted for the Burrow.

The sinking and rushing feeling hit Harry for a few seconds before he came crashing out of the Weasley fireplace. The Burrow was unusually quiet for being after dinner time. Harry walked across the living room, not bothering to brush the soot off his robes, and looked up at the clock by the kitchen. He saw all the names of the Weasley's on the hands of the large grandfather clock. He scanned the names until he saw who he was after: Ronald Weasley. The others seemed to be in Diagon Alley if the clock was telling the truth.

"RON!" Harry yelled at the base of the stairs.

His green eyes glared behind his glasses as he caught sight of the flaming hair leaving the doorway of a room. Ron stood at the top of the stairway, looking down at Harry, sending him a glare of his own.

"The bloody hell are you doing in _my _house?"

Harry lifted the now crumpled letter and held it up for Ron to see. "You mind explaining this?"

Ron shifted his gaze from Harry, to the letter being held up.

"Looks like parchment from here."

"Well maybe if you took your arse down from that pedestal you would be able to see it better. You are even welcome to use my glasses if your eyesight is that bad."

Harry got his intended effect when Ron's face turned its own shade of red and he descended down the stairs. When Ron was within reach, the black haired man threw the Ministry letter at Ron's chest, forcing Ron to bend down and pick it up to see what all the fuss was about. He watched the blue eyes glance over the upturned paper and a wide grin spread across his face.

"Wow, that was fast of the Ministry, I didn't think that they would process my request until at least tomorrow morning!"

"So this isn't a joke, you did this to Malfoy on purpose? Even after knowing how horrible a place like Azkaban is?"

"Azkaban?" Ron asked, "I hope he gets the Kiss inst-"

Harry didn't feel the force of the punch until after he saw Ron hit the wooden floor. His hand stung, but it had been worth it.

"You'll be lucky if I don't file a charge on you next!" Ron's face was now the same shade as his hair, with a solid purple circle slowly forming on his jaw, a dab of blood seeping down his chin.

"I'd like to see you even try it."

"Get out of my house, Golden Boy."

Harry disapparated without another word, welcoming the fleeting sight of the Burrow; the smear of red hair twisting around and being consumed by the darkness. He reappeared at the front door of Grimmauld Place, the sun finally have set all the way, casting the street in only the soft glow of the moon and the spread out lamps that lined the road. He raised his wand and, making sure there were no Muggles around, cast a quick Patronus and sent it on its way.

By the time he had entered the house, took off his trainers, and walked into the living room, the green flames were shooting up once more and Hermione Granger walked out of his fireplace. Her brown eyes scanned the room, looking very concerned.

"Great, you got my message, do you mind if we sit?" Harry turned toward the kitchen and walked in after Hermione.

"It seemed very urgent, Harry, is everything alright? I was really worried when I saw your stag."

"Ron decided to persecute Malfoy with the Ministry for war crimes," he explained, sitting in the chair across from the bushy haired woman, covering his bruised knuckles with his left hand. "Is there anything you can do to help Malfoy?"

"I know Ron doesn't let anything go, but Harry, why do you care about what happens to Malfoy?" Hermione's eyes seemed to be as calculating as ever as she bore down into his green ones.

"Hermione, he doesn't have anywhere, or anyone, else to go to. What would you have me do? Throw him out like a dog?" Harry immediately noticed his slip and bit down on his tongue.

"Care to exp-"

"Granger?"

Hermione turned her head to the kitchen doorway, seeing Draco Malfoy standing there, clad in Muggle blue jeans and a fitting green button up shirt. Her brown eyes watched as he turned to Harry and the raven haired man turn to face Malfoy in return.

"I heard the door and voices, wanted to make sure everything was alright," Malfoy explained himself.

"Nah, everything's fine. Just need to talk to Hermione for a bit about something."

Hermione watched Malfoy turn back toward her, slightly nod, and turned back around and out of sight.

"I need to go back to my house and collect a few books and maybe stop by Hogwarts to take a look in their library. Why don't I collect those and come back first thing in the morning?"

"Sounds brilliant."

Harry walked Hermione back into the living room and over to the fireplace. She walked into the soot and turned around to face Harry again.

"Just be careful," she advised.

"Of what?"

His question was never answered as Hermione threw floo powder into the fireplace, called out for Granger House, and was gone in a flash of green flames.


	8. The Scars Left Behind

Thank you to all my readers!

* * *

><p>Chapter 8: The Scars Left Behind<p>

"Just be careful," she advised.

"Of what?"

His question was never answered as Hermione threw floo powder into the fireplace, called out for Granger House, and was gone in a flash of green flames.

Harry turned away from the remaining bits of ash that were drifting down from the fireplace and saw Draco, arms folded, leaning onto the stair railing. He saw Draco cast a quick smirk, complete with a raised eyebrow, before he grabbed the railing, swung around, and dashed up the stairway and out of sight. The Gryffindor chased after the blonde like he would the snitch, gaining on Draco as they dashed through the long corridor. Draco managed to slip into his room and slam the door before Harry could grasp him. Harry couldn't stop himself in time, and slammed into the door a little harder than he would have liked. He rubbed the side of his head that came into contact with the door and looked up when the offending door cracked slightly; solid gray eyes peeking through the slit in the door.

"Oi! Why were you running from me?" The green eyes met the gray ones accusingly.

"To see if you'd chase me." And the door was shut once more in Harry's face.

"Prat!" the raven haired man shouted through the barrier and walked across the hall into his own bedroom. He slammed the door, just to make a show, and threw himself onto his bed. Harry didn't even bother changing out of his day clothes before he was already drifting off to sleep. Here he thought once he ended the war his life would get easier, why was he always wrong?

The next morning Harry awoke to the wonderful aroma of breakfast drifting along the house. He showered and changed before deciding to see what Kreacher had on the menu. Smelled like bacon...no, no, sausage! And maybe a side of eggs or toast! He had forgotten to eat anything past breakfast the day before and only now realized how starving he was.

He walked down the steps with a skip in his step and walked into the kitchen, facing downward to see the small elf, but there was no elf in sight.

"Eyes up here, Potter."

Harry's eyes flew up to meet Draco's, a blush creeping along his face.

"Sorry! Sorry, thought that Kreacher was the one cook-" he stopped mid-sentence, "Wait, you know how to cook?"

"My mother taught me when I was younger," Draco replied as he stuck his spatula back into the frying pan.

"Oh, I didn't know that." The green eyes watched, transfixed, as Draco was using his hands to make food; no magic usage at all. "You like doing it the Muggle way?"

He saw Draco wince slighty, eyes narrowing the slightest, before he got an answer.

"No wand, no magic; I have to do it the Muggle way."

"Oh...right..."

"Well, take a seat, Potter."

Harry looked to find that the table had already been set for two and quickly took the seat closest. Draco set the plate of cooked food in the middle of the two placements and took a seat himself.

"What do you call this?" Harry asked as he picked up a piece of toast that had a fried egg sitting on top of it.

He saw Draco turn his face away, slightly blushing. "Eggy in a basket is what my mother calls it."

Harry gave a chuckle, which caused Draco to turn his eyes onto him once more. "Figures you Slytherin Snakes would make a dish with eggs."

"Yeah? Better than eating zebra."

The two boys shared a laugh and the tension evaporated like a poorly cast patronus.

After breakfast, Draco left the mess cleanup to the ancient house elf, who kept looking up at him with a disgusting type of half smile, and muttering something about his mistress and pureblood being back in the house. He shrugged it off and joined Harry in the living room.

"What are you doing?"

Harry turned toward him and his face looked like someone had lit a candle over his head.

"I'll be back!" And suddenly Potter was taking long strides toward the door and was gone before Draco knew what happened.

Suddenly the house was no longer open and light-hearted as it had been during breakfast; now, it was empty and dark. He made his way upstairs and into his bedroom. The Slytherin started packing up the room; pulling down posters, throwing away old books that he had no interest in reading, organizing the shelves, dusting the floors. He had just finished scooping up all the dust into a pile when he saw a light shine in the corner, half way under his bed. Picking up the shard of glass, which still had a smear of red on the side, he sat on his bed, staring at his broken reflection.

He set the piece of mirror next to him before standing up and slowly unbuttoning his trousers, and pulling them downwards. They pooled at his feet before he stepped out of them, sat back down on the bed, and looked at the scars on his inner thigh.

'That house elf didn't know what he was talking about,' thought Draco, 'no pureblood has returned to his house. Only a mutt has returned. A stray.' He placed his fingers along the slashes and ran them up and down the length of his scars. The fingers soon disappeared, and were replaced with the sharp edge of the glass.

"Can't damage already damaged goods." His voice echoed around the empty room as he dug into his thigh.

"Malfoy! Malfoy, get your arse down here and help me put all this away!" Draco heard Harry's voice echo around the house, startling him awake. He pushed up off his side, and winced at the sharp pain in his leg. He quickly pulled on his trousers as he heard his name being called once more, and shoved the glass into a side night stand.

He went downstairs to find Harry resizing his shopping to their normal sizes, becoming speechless as he started looking from one Muggle gadget to the other.

"What is all this, Potter?"

Harry turned to him, beaming, and pointed at a large, flat thing that showed his reflection.

"That is a television! Also called a telly or TV," he said before turning to the next object, "And that is a coffee or tea maker. And that is a toaster. And that is a radio, but you can put these little disks," he held up shiny round disks with holes in the middle of them, "in the radio to make it play what you want."

"And, why would we need any of these things?" Draco was feeling overwhelmed at all the sudden Muggle gadgets he had never seen before, let alone know how to work.

"Well, I thought that they would make life easier, more things to do around the house and ways to help cook without the use, you know, of magic..." Draco saw the wide smile fading away from Harry at every other word. "I'm sorry, I just thought-"

"They're great." The blonde wasn't sure why he said it, but he didn't want to see Potter's smile crash through the floor.

The beaming smile came back quickly. "Really?"

Draco watched Harry pull out a long, hawthorn wand and spelled the telly onto the wall, so the reflection side was facing the couch, and the other several objects went floating into the kitchen. Harry bent over the coffee, pulling on this cord and that one, while Draco sat on the couch facing the telly, suppressing a small gasp as his trousers pulled against his fresh wounds. He was glad that the Golden Boy was facing away from him so he didn't have to answer questions about it.

"There!"

Draco watched Harry look at the telly like he conquered it, before he strutted over to the couch and threw himself down onto it next to the blonde.

"There what?"

"Watch this!" Harry lifted up a thick, black, wand like object, with lots of small buttons on the top.

Draco's eyes flew to the reflective screen, not noticing the deep growl that came from his throat, as suddenly there were people in the box and they were talking. He turned back to Harry and found the green eyed man watching him intently. His eyes dropped to the black, wand like thing in Harry's hand, and made to grab for it, but it was pulled out of his reach.

When he looked back at Harry, he saw a fire within the green and a small smirk on his face. He made another lunge for the hand held telly wand, but it was once again pulled out of his reach. A wide smirk graced his own face as he fully jumped upon Harry, intent to get the device. The raven-haired man managed to hold him away with his free hand and kept moving the device out of reach.

"Give it here, Potter!"

"What will you give me for it?"

"I shouldn't have to ask for it, Potter!"

"Yes, you should!" Harry shouted, "Beg for it!"

Hermione walked out of the floo, brushing soot off her robes. She looked up, seeing the two boys at a side angle on the couch. Draco's shirt was half pulled up over his head, she couldn't identify whose hands were where, and there was begging involved.

"Um, bad time?" she mumbled weakly, unsure if she wanted to get involved.

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><p>I hope you liked this chapter. We shall be moving along with the plot, I promise, I just needed some fluff for my little shipper heart. :3<p>

Love my beta!


	9. Potter Being Shown

Chapter Nine:

Hermione walked out of the floo, brushing soot off her robes. She looked up, seeing the two boys at a side angle on the couch. Draco's shirt was half pulled up over his head, she couldn't identify whose hands were where, and there was begging involved.

"Um, bad time?" she mumbled weakly, unsure if she wanted to get involved.

A thud echoed through the living area as Harry bolted upside, accidentally shoving Draco onto the floor.

"Oi! Potter!" Draco complained as he was managing to pull his shirt completely off so he could see again.

"Hermione!" Harry hopped up off the couch and straightened his shirt down before looking up at her, smiling sheepishly, "I didn't hear you floo in."

Hermione looked from Harry, then down to the Slytherin, who was righting himself, and back to Harry. "Apparently not." A small knowing smile passed her lips before he turned toward the kitchen and walked through the entryway.

Draco walked around the couch and stood next to Harry. "Do you always just let people into your house without an invitation?"

The raven-haired man turned to Draco with a smirk, "I do tend to let in the strays, don't I?"

In retrospect, the Gryffindor figured he deserved the shirt thrown in his face.

Draco followed Hermione into the kitchen, dreading the upcoming discussion he knew he had to have with the girl. He found her sitting at the table, books already open and papers spread all over, organized in some manner, he was sure of it. Resigning himself to his fate, he quietly took the seat across the table from her.

Hermione was about to speak, but stopped herself as she watched Harry walk in and put a white jumper down on the table. The blonde took it, quickly tossed it onto himself, pulling up the short zipper to his neck. Harry proceeded to make his way over to the kettle and made himself busy.

"Alright, Malfoy, let's get to it. The charges that Ron brought against you are very serious, but not well founded. Yes, you were a Death Eater, but at the same time any crime that you committed could be considered forced. In addition to that, you didn't call Voldemort in Malfoy Manor, which shows a lot in and of itself."

Harry appeared by the table once more with two cups of tea and put one in front of Draco, muttering, "Crème, no milk, and a spoon of sugar," which earned a small 'thanks', and sat next to the blonde, so he was facing her.

"So, you need to appear before the Wizengamot in two weeks." She was sure she didn't image the half glance that the two boys shared. "So I brought you a bunch of books about war crimes I want you to read over so you know what you are being charged with and how to defend yourself against such charges."

The Slytherin sighed and picked up the books that were scattered about.

"Thanks, Granger, can always count on you to make me suffer one way or another."

"Yeah well, better than slapping you across the face." Hermione stood up and gathered some of her stray papers together. "But now I have to go. Mum is expecting me over for dinner soon."

Harry walked her over to the fireplace and hugged her goodbye. She stepped into the ashes and held up her handful of floo powder.

"Oh, and Harry?"

"Hm?"

"By chance, what is my favourite colour?"

"Um...not really sure."

"Ah. What is Malfoy's favourite colour?"

"White. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, just wondering. Bye!"

And in a green flash, the brunette was gone.

"In two weeks time. I guess we lucked out on that one, eh Potter?"

Harry turned around and he immediately noticed the jumper he grabbed for the blonde was white.

"Oh."

"Everything okay, Potter? Why are you looking at me funny?"

Harry's eyes drifted up from the jumper into the stormy gray ones. "What is your favourite colour? Green, isn't it?"

Draco's eyebrow raised and he looked amused, "Worried about the jumper you gave me? No worries, I love white actually, it's my favourite." Draco, arms full of books, went around to the staircase, "Need to get my beauty rest after all."

Harry's mind was still chasing after the colour issue, he didn't even realize when he muttered, "Don't need it."

Draco was half way up the stairs when he looked over one more time at Harry, and continued up the rest of the way. He plopped the books down onto the small table in his room and threw himself down onto the bed. He was asleep before the next minute passed.

Draco had hardly pulled his pants back up when Harry burst into his room once more.

"Malfoy! Come on, get dressed already!"

"Potter! Don't you ever, ever knock?"

Green eyes were lit with the fire again and a wide smile was on his face. "I want to take you to London!"

"And why is that?" he was curious now.

"Because, for once I don't have to hide, or watch my back! I can actually go out and have fun now, so that means you can bother to get your arse out of bed and...Malfoy? What is that?"

The blonde turned his head back to Harry and saw his confused and worried look. His gray eyes looked down and he swore to himself, seeing the bloody, wet rag not pushed under his bed completely. Thinking quickly, Draco picked up the rag, shrugged, and threw it into his laundry hamper.

"Must have been from the other day, didn't get put into the hamper properly." And he finished pulling on his jumper.

"I'll have to talk to Kreacher about it later." Draco lifted his head slightly, his hair obscuring his vision a bit as he looked into the green eyes. "So then, are you ready to go yet?"

"Potter, I just rolled out of bed! You can't at least let me do my hair before you badger me more than a Hufflepuff?"

"But you'll take _hours _on your hair, I just know it!" Harry mock complained.

"Oh, shut it you." Draco raised his arms and tossed his hair with his fingers, letting it fall back into place naturally. "See you downstairs."

"Wait! How did you do that?" Harry went chasing the blonde out of the room.

Draco hadn't felt so out of place since he was in the middle of the Death Eater ranks. He knew he kept getting stares and people whispering about him, or Harry, or both of them. Every time he tried to say anything to Harry though, he would always be told not to worry about it. Bloody optimism. Every time Draco tried to walk slower than the Gryffindor wanted, he would have his wrist grabbed and yanked forward, forcing him to walk with Harry, as opposed to trying to linger in the back and not be noticed.

The first shop that Harry dragged the Slytherin into was Flourish and Blotts, half of which was still being repaired from the damages of war. They spent the better part of an hour in the bookshop. Examining new books, talking and laughing over some of them.

"Hey look! This book has a page missing, looks like it was ripped out. Who would do that? Hermione would have their head!" Harry laughed and Draco took the book away from him, flushed when he saw the cover, and put it back on the shelf.

After they left Flourish and Blotts, it seemed that Harry was determined to drag Draco into nearly every shop in Diagon Alley, one by one. Draco stared longingly at Ollivanders, until the shorter man noticed and pulled him into Florean Fortescue's. The two sat on a small table outside, making sure Draco's back was to the wand shop, and the happy mood was brought back when the playful banter began.

"A little surprised to see you here, Malfoy. But then, I guess you would be cocky enough to think that you can have your back to hundreds of wizards and not feel threatened. I'd be careful of that attitude if I were you though, never know when someone might come along and cast a curse, accidentally of course."

"Weasley..." Draco half turned, his eyes shooting daggers at the ginger git. "What do you want?"

"What do I want? Oh, nothing of course. Not in front of hundreds of witn... wizards," Ron purposely caught himself.

"Is that a threat, Ron?" Harry's tone was low, and a threat in itself.

"And why would I need to threaten a wandless outcast?" Ron took a step back as Draco abruptly stood and turned to face him. Harry was out of his chair a second behind the blonde and grabbed Draco's forearm and pulled him back from Ron.

"Just leave it, Malfoy. Ron, why don't you just leave?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Golden Boy, didn't mean to interrupt your little date. But honestly Harry, you could do better than an abandoned little snake; his parent's probably just ditched him on purpose, you should do the same."

Harry heard the deep-throated growl and watched as Draco's eyes flashed blue. Using a bit of pressure, Harry pushed against Draco's chest with his free hand and lead him off, back inside the ice cream parlor. Once out of sight of Ron, Draco's eyes returned to gray and finally dropped down to meet the worried green ones. He sighed and leaned against the corner that he was lead to, bringing a hand up to rub the sweat from his brow.

"I know it's a stupid question, but are you alright?"

"No, no I don't think I am. I swear, I wanted to rip Weasley's throat out.

Harry closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his forehead on Draco's collarbone. "I know, I heard it. Just give him a bit of time, I'm sure he's just unwinding from the war. I bet he'll be fine once he gets used to you, is all."

"I don't he wants to get used to me, and frankly, I want nothing to do with him."

"Want to go home?" Harry didn't need to see the nod, he could feel it just fine, and he apparated them away from Diagon Alley and straight into the living room of Grimmauld Place.

The two boys broke away from one another and Draco stole a quick glance at the clock that was illuminated on the new electronic show thing that sat below the telly-thing.

"Hungry?" Draco asked Harry, who was still standing a step away from where they had appeared from.

"I could go for a bite."

"Sorry, Potter, no biting, never know what I'll catch." The boys shared a smile and the Slytherin disappeared into the kitchen.

"Seriously, Malfoy, I have a house elf, you don't have to do the cooking all the time." Harry followed a few seconds, watching Draco take a roast out of the fridge, unwrap it, and place it on the cutting board.

"Makes me feel useful," Draco muttered.

"With my marks in Potions, want me to try and cook?" Harry said with a laugh.

"I don't think you would be too bad at it, just need to focus is all."

"Wha-"

He was cut off from questioning or disagreeing as he was suddenly pulling by the blonde and a small knife was put carefully into his hand. Harry was put in front of the cutting board, with Draco to his back, and Draco's hand softly engulfed his own over the knife handle.

"Now, just smoothly rotate the knife into slicing." As he spoke, Draco moved their hands to cut small, but thick, slices into the chunk of roast that had been on the cutting board. "See, this isn't so hard, is it?"

Harry's curiosity got the better of him and he turned his head slightly toward Draco's. His eyes met the gray one and they stared at one another for a few seconds before Draco stepped back and away from Harry, grabbing a pot and filling it with water from the sink.

Harry mumbled, "Thank you for showing me," before he went to leave the kitchen. He turned at the doorway and looked around in time to see Draco snag the sliver of roast and slip it into his mouth raw.

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><p>And that is Chapter Nine! Let me know what you think you lovely readers! (And go love my beta for me!)<p> 


	10. The Trial

Chapter 10: The Trial

As much as Harry disliked Grimmauld Place, having someone to share it with made it surprisingly livable. It wasn't long before Draco made him give the grand tour, explaining why there were planks set up in the fashion of hunting trophies, or why there was a sizable trophy case set up with next to nothing in it. It was during the grand tour that Draco tore the curtain away in the staircase while Harry had been in the kitchen. Immediately, Mrs. Black started to cry about mudbloods and scum. While he rushed to go take care of it, he was half way to the stairs when he noticed that the yelling had stopped. He found Draco sitting cross-legged on the stairs, actually having a conversation with the nasty Black. Apparently, finding out that Draco was Narcissa's pureblood son was enough for Mrs. Black to accept him being inside her house without swearing up a storm.

The two boys found a comfortable routine in their improvised home, but the threat of the trial, and the ever present lack of wolfsbane still kept them on their toes. Draco always got top marks in potions while in Hogwarts, but there was always the problem of trying to get the ingredients without someone asking questions about it later. Sending Potter into Diagon Alley to try and get them was out of the question. All the owls that came for him every day were bad enough without the Golden Boy buying a potion for a werewolf. He always snorted when he thought about the Daily Prophet headlines for _that _one: _Savior of the Wizarding World Now a Dangerous Beast._

Finally, after what seemed like a month, the day of the Wizengamot trial fell upon them. Draco's nerves had been on edge all week, and this day was particularly atrocious. His whole hand shook, and his mind was elsewhere, when he managed to slice especially deep into himself. He cursed and had applied a rag to it when he heard Potter shout his name from down the steps. He yelled a hurried acknowledgment in return and quickly got dressed, just in case Potter decided that he hasn't moving fast enough and decided to throw proper etiquette out the second floor window. He had found a nice outfit from the closet that fit him well enough and decided that it would have to do for his trial. He might not be who he once was, but he was still a Malfoy, more or less, and he would be damn sure he still looked the part.

Draco turned the corner of the hall to face the staircase and was surprised to find Harry Potter ready and waiting at the bottom, dressed in his own formal wear.

"What are you doing, Potter?"

"You really think that, after dragging you from the wreckage of the war, I would let you face this on your own?"

"This isn't war, Potter."

"Really? Because I truly don't see a difference." He cocked his head to the side, causing his unruly hair to flop to the side and his glasses to slide a bit.

Draco rolled his eyes and walked down the steps, muttering a quick hello to Mrs. Black, and stopped a few steps from the bottom.

"Are you going to move, Potter?"

"Not until you accept me going with you." That stupid grin graced Potter's features.

The blonde shook his head and tried shoving his way through. As he passed the Gryffindor, the stubborn man swung around and grabbed Draco around the middle, pulling him in tightly, and held him there.

"Potter!" Draco tried to move around so his back wasn't pressed against the other man, but the hold was too tight.

"Resistance is futile. Just agree that I can come and I'll let you go."

"Potter, let me go!" Draco half yelled, half laughed.

"I'm not letting go until you agree. Simple as that."

"You insufferable little prat!" Draco finally succeeded in half turning in Harry's arms. "Fine!"

"Fine?" Potter questioned.

"Fine, you can come with me. You and your hero complex."

The arms slid from around Draco's stomach and the body moved back. "See? Was that so difficult?"

"With you? Always."

Over half the Ministry was still under construction, cleaning up from the war. There was a team of wizards moving the _Magic is Might _statue and replacing it with a new _Ministry of Magic _one. The gray eyes scanned the new statue and could have put Galleons on betting that the new wizard standing in the statue was based off the Boy Who Lived, only dressed in robes. Behind the main wizard was standing an army lined up behind him, the figures growing smaller as they were further away from the wizard. All the witches and wizards had their wands pointed upward and, as before, a stream of water from flowing from each wand tip. Draco eyed the wands mournfully; he missed being able to use his wand. The extend of the magic he allowed himself to do was a simple arm wave and a silent spell that either put book away or unrolled a rug. It just wasn't safe for him to still have his wand, he and Potter had agreed, because the Ministry could take it from him, or claim that he was dangerous with it.

"Hey, Malfoy? Are you coming? Don't want to be late to your own party," Potter called to him.

They headed for the lifts and hit the button for the second level, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Draco couldn't stand still, he kept shifting legs and tapping his fingers on his arms. The lift pulled back and upward and they were on their way. They were the only ones in the lift, which is something that Draco was grateful for.

"Potter?"

"Hm?"

"What if I go to Azkaban?"

Potter turned to face Draco, his face set. "You won't."

"But I could. It's me against the Weasley." He was slightly worried that the fear shone in his eyes, and cursed himself silently for it.

"No, it's not. It's you, only you. You didn't do anything you wanted to. You saved my life in Malfoy Manor. You didn't hurt anyone during the final battle. You survived, and they can't punish you for that no more than they could punish me for anyone that I hurt in the final battle to survive." The intensiveness of Potter's gaze had the blonde nearly believing that there wasn't a doubt that he was innocent.

The lift bell announced that they had reached the Law Enforcement office. Without a word, Draco walked out of the lift first and headed along the corridor that held the trial room. He stopped in front of the sizable door, took a heavy breath, and strode in with his head held high.

Harry followed the pale man into the trial room. He couldn't help but have a tiny smile and shake his head at the way he held himself high, even in the face of the Wizengamot. He stopped tailing Draco as the blonde stepped into the large circle and sat in the solitary chair in the center. He noticed that half the seats were vacant, no doubt from either deaths in the war or Death Eaters that were formerly on the bench. He didn't recognize most of the witches and wizards seated around in their plum robes, staring down at Draco like he was some animal on exhibit, but he did recognize one face, leading the trial, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Then he caught sight of a flash of flame. He turned his head and saw Ron and Ginny seated in the audience section of the room. He felt anger rising up inside him like the beasts of flame did in the Room of Requirement. Not only had Ron caused this whole fiasco, but he was sitting there, watching Draco with a sickening smirk across his face.

"Alright, let's attempt to keep this trial brief and uncomplicated, shall we?" Shacklebolt's voice reverberated around the room, demanding silence from the soft murmurs of conversation being held. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, you are being charged for crimes against humanity during the Second Wizarding War. What is your plea?"

"Not guilty." Draco sounded much more confident than Harry knew him to be. "My life was threatened for the past two years and acted only in response to that threat."

"And why could you not have sought help instead of acting upon dark commands?"

"In the time of war, one couldn't know who was a Death Eater or not. The Ministry itself knows this all too well, one should think." Harry rolled his eyes at the obvious defiance in Draco's voice; no matter what pureblood prejudices say, he was a Malfoy through and through.

"Indeed, indeed. Would anyone like to stand on behalf of Draco Malfoy, to verify his claim?" Shacklebolt announced into the room.

Silence followed for a second before Harry stepped forward. "Witness for the defense, Harry James Potter." The quite murmurs erupted across the room once more.

"That's not right!" Harry turned and saw Ron standing up, face as red as his hair. "He's biased! He can't know if that's the truth; he was with me and Hermione traveling at the time of the crimes!"

Harry smirked. "How biased is it, then, to have you press the charges against Draco Malfoy if you couldn't have known the causes of the crimes, since you were, as you stated, with me the entire time? Even having you in this court room is unjust."

If possible, Ron turned an even darker shade of red and sat down beside Ginny once more, obviously swearing under his breath. Harry turned back toward the Wizengamot, eyes meeting with Shacklebolt.

"What Draco says is the truth. He was tormented in our sixth year, knowing what was asked of him. I saw it every day; the obvious lack of eating, sleep deprived, and his stress levels at their peak. And then, at the end of the year, after the Astronomy Tower incident, he fled from the grounds, followed by Death Eaters. He had no choice but to join them, or risk being called a traitor, especially after he couldn't commit the murder." The murmurs around the room grew louder, but Harry noticed that Draco remained silent and faced forward, head still held high. "And then, just this past year, when I was captured by the Snatchers and brought to Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix Lestrange had to verify who I was before calling Voldemort." At the sound of the name, he noticed quite a few people still flinched, including Draco himself. "He knew it was me, but he refused to name me outright and because of that, I managed to leave that Manor alive."

Shacklebolt asked, "And you are sure of this, Mr. Potter?"

"As sure as I am of anything. I have known him for over seven years, sir, and I know his facial expressions, how he acts, and why he does so. I put my name down, for what it is worth, of Draco's innocence and ask that you see it as well."

"Very well, Mr. Potter, we shall take your comments into consideration."

"One more thing, sir. I want to bring to your attention, while I was in the Forbidden Forest, that Mrs. Malfoy had the perfect opportunity to turn me over, once she realized that I was not dead, but she didn't. Twice in just the past few months my life was saved by a Malfoy; if they were truly Death Eaters, they wouldn't have even considered doing that."

"Very well. All in favor of conviction," Shacklebolt requested. There were a few whispers between the members, but not a single hand was raised into the air.

"And all in favor of dropping all charges brought forth?" This time every arm was raised, including Shacklebolt's.

"Alright then, Draco Malfoy, you have been cleared of all charges; you are free to leave young man."

Draco stood, did a half bow, and straightened up. Harry saw him turn and noticed the small glimpse of tears held in the eyes that sought him; they held so much more than tears though: thankfulness, hope, appreciation, and something Harry couldn't identify. He was mouthed a thank you, to which he nodded in response. It was then that he heard the loud swearing of Ron behind him. He turned in time to see the red haired man storm out of the room, turning at the door and shooting daggers at Draco, and possibly himself as well, before leaving.

The room was clearing out quickly while Draco and Harry waited for the assemblage to depart so they could leave separately from everyone else.

"Harry?" a soft and familiar voice called out to him. He turned and saw Ginny standing by the door way, smiling at him from a distance.

Harry couldn't help but smile as he saw Ginny. She was as lovely as ever, but something kept nagging at him, and wouldn't let him go: why was she with Dean? Why hasn't she contacted him in the past two and a half weeks? Why was she at the trial with Ron?

"I'll be right back, Malfoy." He could feel the gray eyes watching him as he stepped away and approached Ginny.

"Hello there, Ginny." He tried a true smile, but he couldn't quite make it.

A week had passed from the trial, and Harry noticed that Draco seemed much more cheerful at first. He kept himself busy with reading, or practicing his potions; even the night after the trial, he baked about three cakes. When Harry asked why, the blonde explained that he made them just because he could. The past day, though, Harry noticed that something seemed to be bothering the other man.

Harry got back from the Ministry and entered Grimmauld Place happily. He threw his jumper over the back of the couch and yelled out for Draco before entering the kitchen. His happy mood fell when he saw the pale man sitting in one of the dining room chairs, poking at a piece of cake with his fork.

"Malfoy! I just got back from the Ministry; they just offered me a position as an Auror in training!" Harry sat next to the blonde. When he didn't get a reply, he lowered his head and tried to peek through the white-blond stands of hair that kept Draco's face hidden. "Hello, Malfoy? Did you hear me? An Auror!"

"That's...that's fantastic, Potter, really." Harry could hardly hear the response he had gotten and his mood went flying out of the room as silently and quickly as an owl.

"What's wrong, Malfoy?" When he got no answer he tried again. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, to try and coax an answer.

Draco sighed and pushed his plate of cake away. He brought his head up to face Harry. "I have finally put my pride aside, I contacted every apothecary shop in the area, and not one of them is currently stocking wolfsbane. The full moon is only a few days away, what am I going to do?" Harry's heart broke at the sound of hopelessness in his voice, and there was no flare in the gray eyes. He knew that Draco hated the change; he got a picture of it that first night, in the Room of Requirement. Harry remembered Remus, how beaten down he always looked, and the altered life he had to live all because of the stupid infection, and started to wonder if Draco would look the same way in a year's time.

"Remus...Wait! Remus!" Harry practicality shouted.

Draco's head shot up and he looked at Harry like he had gone insane.

"What about him?"

"He was a werewolf! He took wolfsbane everywhere he went! I'll be back, I have to visit Andromeda Tonks!" Harry barely heard Draco's confused question about his aunt because he had started to apparate on the spot. The room twisted and spun and for the first time, Harry was excited about apparating. He landed on his feet outside of the protective barrier of the Tonks house and he rushed forward and quickly knocked on the wooden door. It creaked open a few inches and the woman looking strikingly like Bellatrix peaked through the gap.

"Andromeda Tonks, it's been too long," Harry said cheerfully.

The woman grunted and opened the door fully, holding onto a little bundle with bright blue hair. "Hello there, Harry Potter. Glad to see you made it out alive. How can I help you?"

"Can I come inside and look at Remus's things a bit? I am looking for something that I need that he had." Harry didn't enjoy altering the truth, but he also had to protect Draco's secret best he could.

"Certainly, Mr. Potter. Come inside."

Harry quickly thanked her before entering the home and, wanting to waste no time, headed for Remus and Tonks's old room and started going through everything he could think of that would hold a potion. He was at this task for a good fifteen minutes before he was startled by Andromeda's voice.

"Aren't you a wizard, boy?"

Harry gave her a funny look before he realized what she meant. He pulled out his wand and muttered sheepishly, "Accio potion." A medium sized case came flying toward him from under the bed and Harry caught it effortlessly. He unlatched the top and opened the container, seeing rows of small potion vials sitting peacefully side by side. He picked up one of them, held it up to the light, rotated the vial, and a huge smile spread over his face as he was clearly able to read the label, _Wolfsbane __Potion._

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><p><em>And that is that! Chapter 10 has ended. Let me know what you think, I love your input.<em>


	11. Time to Try

So sorry for my long absence! I had a bunch of things going on, but now that those are all taken care of, I can focus again! :D

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><p>"So," she began, "are you going to tell me what you need that potion for?" Andromeda Tonks asked the gleeful boy. His green eyes seemed to take in every detail of the tiny vial; the muddy looking liquid that was so valuable. He hardly noticed when she nodded her head and headed out of the thrashed room. Harry tore his eyes from the vial to the rest of the slightly dark room. He stood and advanced on the shelves, finally taking the time to look about instead of being focused on a single objective. He found pictures of baby Teddy scattered throughout the bedroom, as well as older pictures that must have come from one of the side of the family or the other, either Lupin or Tonks. He pocketed a few of the baby pictures he found and went to the bookshelf, his eyes scanned over the titles of books he was sure Hermione would love.<p>

As Harry left the room, he shut the door behind him and headed into the living room. He found Teddy on his back, staring up at a small, colourful ball, which was floating a foot above his head. He kept reaching up, trying to grab for it, but the ball managed to be just out of reach at all times. Harry smiled as he walked over and picked up the infant, held him out, and gave small raspberries onto his belly, which caused high pitched sequels of laughter from the boy, whose hair was turning purple. Harry was careful to keep a hand on the back of the small boy, to help support his head.

"You should come around more, become a father figure in his life." Tonks spoke from the connecting kitchen, watching the two with a smile across her face. Harry had a difficult time watching her; the resemblance between her and her sister, Bellatrix, was disturbing. He figured it would just take some time to get used to it, is all. He heard little Teddy laugh at him once more before placing him down on the soft blue mat once more.

"Thank you, Mrs. Tonks. I really appreciate your help." He strode over to the doorway and opened the door to leave. "I promise I will come around more; help take care of Teddy." He smiled at Andromeda and left the house, shutting the door behind him, heading into the setting sun to the apparation point.

He apparated at his front door, box of vials re-sized and safely under his arm. Opening the door, he found the inside was dark and quiet. He went inside, headed through the living room into the kitchen, placing the small wooden box onto the table, before creeping softly into the living room and leaned over the back of the couch. There, curled around a big pillow, was Draco, sound asleep. He smiled, watching the blonde sleep peacefully, realizing how relaxed his features were, strands of hair scattering over his pale cheek. Harry turned on the spot and walked softly upstairs, taking caution with every step he took so as not to make the wood creek. He invited himself into Draco's room and reached over for the top blanket. He was pulling the soft throw toward him when he saw it: a blinding gleam that was pulled along by the blanket. He half held the blanket in his arms as he walked around the side of the bed, not wanting to accidentally break anything of the other man's. He gently took the source of the shine and slid it fully from under the blanket.

He stood, staring at the crimson stained glass for what seemed like ages. Why was this still in Draco's room? And under his blanket of all things...he just didn't want to believe what his mind was shouting at him to understand. The blonde seemed depressed on occasion, but he wouldn't...would he? He thought back on the day that he dragged Draco to Diagon Alley; he had seen this very same piece of glass then to, but hadn't thought anything of it. Draco had said it was nothing, and he had believed the Slytherin! He realized now how stupid that had been: he should have demanded to know what was going on, why the glass was still about, and why the rag was so bloody.

"Kreature..." Harry called softly. The word was hardly out his mouth when the small, old elf popped into existence at his feet.

"You called for Kreature?" the shriveled thing asked.

"Search this entire room," Harry ordered, "search it for any stray glass, and for anything with blood on it. Once you have everything, dispose of it."

"Yes, master."

Harry's journey back downstairs was one filled with worry and dread. Every step seemed to make as much noise as the Hogwart's Express. He was so sure that Draco was going to awaken at any moment, ask him what the elf was doing in his room, and they would have a row. But none of that happened. He reached the bottom of the stairs and turned the corner, approached the couch, and there was the blonde, just as Harry had left him. He unwrapped the throw from his arms and softly covered the blonde with the fluffy, black blanket. Instinctively, the upturned nose dug its way into the fluff and the man sighed contently. Harry was half turned when he heard a soft noise coming from the still sleeping boy; he paused, fearful of moving in case the blonde was waking up.

"Ar-e" the man said, still deep in sleep, but even that soft noise, hardly loud enough to hear, meant that Harry was not going to allow himself to leave the other boy alone. He pulled off his cloak, draped it on the floor in the front of the couch, and laid himself down after removing his boots. The floor was wooden, and very hard to lie upon, and his cloak did little to help him feel snug or warm. He was willing to tolerate it, though, when he looked up and found the pale face snuggled against the fresh blanket, half visible from the upturned angle. He didn't snore loudly like Ron did when he was asleep, the Slytherin was as quite as a sleeping cat, or in his case, wolf.

Harry didn't know when he had fallen asleep, but he was aware that rays of light were cutting across his closed eyes. He groaned and turned over on the hard wood, feeling sore the entire length of his side. His eyes peeked open and he tilted his head upward, to take in his surroundings. He was expecting the sight of the couch, the plain wall behind that. What he was not expecting, however, was the gray eyes a foot from his face, staring into his own like they were connected.

"Potter?" the voice said softly.

"Hm?" his reply came, still half asleep.

"Why are you sleeping on the floor?"

"Because you took up the entire length of that ugly couch." His eyes were fluttering shut once more, struggling to stay awake.

He knew he took a bit to respond, but he finally jerked himself a bit more awake and continued, "and besides, Malfoy, why are you sleeping in the living room anyway?" But when he opened his eyes, he found that the curtains were drawn shut, the thick blanket was draped over him, and soft music was playing in the background. He stretched, grabbed his wand, which was lying next to him, and cast a quick Tempus; it was nearing noon.

"Potter, will you get up already? Prat, just lying about all day long. Lazy lion..." Harry heard the hint of mocking in the cool voice, but he smiled in spite of himself. He fixed his glasses upon his face and looked up to see the blonde looking down at him from across the room. "Come on, you. Up!" the snake tried again.

"Geez, what has your robe in a knot?" Harry asked while standing, picking up the blanket and his robe, and piled them on the spare chair.

"Oh, don't act like you don't know, Potter." At Harry's confused glance, Draco spoke again, "The wolfsbane! I found it in a little wooden box, which wasn't there when I fell asleep last night." The hope that filled those gray eyes was enough to make it worth it for Harry. Draco looked so happy, like he was saved from the fire all over again.

"Yeah, I found it at Remus's! I also got to see Teddy, that was fantastic!"

"Teddy?" the blonde asked.

"Yeah, Teddy. He is the son of Remus and Tonks. He is..." Harry had to pause and think about it a second. "Your mother's sister's grandchild..."

"Cousin then," Draco piped in.

"If you say so." Harry laughed, "He is about a month old."

"Once removed." Draco smirked when Harry gave him a confused look. "You learn all of those important terms when you grow up in a sophisticated family." Draco had turned his nose up once more.

"Yeah, those are important to know when you are marrying within your family, huh?" Draco's smirk fell and he glared at Harry, while the offending wizard was laughing at his own joke.

"Go take a bath, Potter, you stink." And Draco disappeared around the corner leading into the kitchen.

Harry huffed for a second before smiling and heading up the stairs to go take a shower as the blonde suggested. He was just entering his room when the small elf popped into the hallway. Harry turned around to look at Kreature.

"Kreature has done what the master asked of him." The elf bowed his head.

"Very good, Kreature," Harry praised, "Keep an eye on him for me; make sure he doesn't try and harm himself again. But," Harry added, "just like in sixth year: he isn't to know. No notes, no warnings, nothing."

"Kreature wouldn't want to see the young Malfoy hurt, sir, he is favorable with Kreature's Mrs. Black." The elf bowed lower.

Harry rolled his eyes: yeah, sure, it takes years for Kreature to finally stop insulting him, but give Malfoy one month in the house and suddenly he is acceptable of people living in Mrs. Black's old house. Figures.

The next few days flew by in a non-existent breeze. Draco seemed a lot less depressed, and there were even times where Harry would come back from Hermione's or Luna's early and Draco wouldn't realize Harry was standing in the doorway until he was half way through the Wicked Sisters latest song playing through the radio, at which point he would cut himself off mid-word and clear his throat, continuing with cooking, or potions, or what have you, like nothing in the world happened.

The morning of the full moon, Harry found the blonde sitting at the dining room table, tea cup in hand but hardly a drop missing.

"You alright there, then?" the raven eyed man asked, while scanning him up and down.

"It's today," was all the reply Harry got.

"I know it is, and we will be ready. We already have the wolfsbane, and so everything will be fine." He tried to sound reassuring, and thought he did a better job sounding like it than what he was actually feeling.

Every hour that ticked by seemed like an entire day in itself. The clock tick every second sounded loud and clear throughout the small house. Draco was hardly drinking, and getting him to eat anything was impossible; Harry even tried to make a nice steak for him but it was left forgotten on the table as the man crawled himself back under the bedsheets in his room.

"Malfoy?" Harry invited himself into the depressing room, and found Draco by a large lump under the bed spread. "Malfoy, it's almost five, you need to take your potion." He watched as a pale, small hand slip out from the bundle of covers and waited, palm up, waiting. He sighed and put the small vial into the waiting palm, which started to curl as soon as the vial touched it, and their fingers brushed together slightly. The hand tucked back under the blanket, and Harry heard the blonde shudder and the vial was thrown out from under the blanket onto the floor.

"Tastes like I just drank essence of Weasley!" the hidden lump complained loudly.

"I know, and I'm sorry. You have to drink it straight, mixing it makes it useless." Harry watched as Kreature came in through the open doorway and snapped his fingers, making the broken glass that scattered the floor by the bed disappear instantly, and leaving again without a word. He sat down on the bed, next to the lump, and waited. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for; he didn't want to have to watch the Slytherin change again, and he knew there would be no conversation beforehand. He just knew he should be there, just for him.

The minutes ticked by, and around the six o clock hour Harry noticed that Draco would shudder for a few seconds every ten minutes or so. He ignored the first shudder, but took notice when they started recurring. They only came more often, and sounding more painful, the more time passed by. Draco yelled out a cry of pain, which caused Harry to immediately put his hand on the blonde's back and rub gently, whispering about how he was going to be fine, and nagging Harry before long. The clock from the living room announced that the seven o clock hour hit and Draco was calling out in constant pain, going from groaning, gasping, screaming, and Harry knew, at some point, the Slytherin had started sobbing, but he wasn't going to mention it if asked later.

Harry was still rubbing the blonde's back when he felt the rib cage pop out of place and shift. His hand froze as he felt the change of the bones and Draco's cries became more feral. When a sharp growl came from the shifting lump, he snatched his hand back and stood, walking back toward the door. The lump finally stopped shifting under the covers, looking larger than it once had. Harry watched as one side of the lump moved up, and he was able to see the silhouette of the wolf's head. The animal threw its head back and Harry found his eyes locked with beautiful, icy blue ones. The eyes didn't look as cold and distant as they did the first time Harry had seem them. Instead, they looked understanding, and questionable. The massive head cocked to the side, ears perked upward.

"Mal..Malfoy, is it you?" the one question asked would determine if Harry would have to flee or fight the wolf that was staring at him.

His reply came as the pure white head lifted back, exposing the soft fur of the throat, and a long, sorrowful howl filled number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

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